


Welcome To The Tower

by Cardinal_Perplexus



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Artist Steve Rogers, Gen, Post Avengers, Slice of Life, Steve tries digital art, WTNV is awesome, because he is one, cosplay (eventually), fandoms - Freeform, pre-Winter Soldier, tags are subject to change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2014-08-27
Packaged: 2018-02-03 11:48:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1743638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cardinal_Perplexus/pseuds/Cardinal_Perplexus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Back in the day, Steve listened to the radio when he sketched.<br/>Even though it isn't the same in the 21st century, it's still fun to hear about that one friendly desert community with the hot sun, beautiful moon, and mysterious lights that pass overhead . .</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing/posting fan fiction.
> 
> I got the idea for this fic while walking home and listening to Condos, one of the WTNV live shows that was recorded and "retired" to their bandcamp. 
> 
> This work is entirely unbeta'd.  
> All mistakes fall squarely on my head.

“It's just like--”

“Just like paper. Yep.” Tony tossed the stylus to Steve before continuing the “welcome home” tour of his rooms. “I'll explain your set up in a bit. But first . .”

Steve looked around, trying to take it all in. It was bigger than he had expected, and nothing like the shoddy apartment SHIELD had put him in. There was no horrible yellow wallpaper. No obviously fake 40's style décor to try to make him “feel at home.” No shelves of books on military tactics that hadn't seen the light of day since before he'd been iced.

The entire apartment looked sleek and modern, something Steve might have expected to see pop out of an Issac Asimov story. He had a kitchenette, a living room, a personal workout room, a cavernous bathroom, and a bedroom that gave a near-perfect bird's eye view of the city. The dark furniture against the near pristine white of the walls gave the entire floor a luxurious feel that was completely at odds with everywhere he had lived before. The only problem was--

“Here.” Tony startled him out of his thoughts by pushing the wheeled desk chair in the general direction of the enormous (and extremely comfortable looking) bed at the far end of the room. “JARVIS can help you with your computer until you get the hang of it. You've got full internet access, so you can do pretty much anything. Just don't feed the trolls. Also,” he tapped at the holographic keyboard, pulling up a program. “I got you Photoshop. There's a bunch of supplies and sketchbooks all over your apartment, and you can scan and save your work to the home server if you feel like it.”

“Photoshop?” He had heard the phrase before, but as an insult. Something about “photoshopped models ruining everyone's perception of women” had caught his ear on the hellicarier when he passed one of the water coolers.

“Yeah. You can use it to color, resize, pretty much do anything to a picture. JARVIS can call up some tutorials if you need help.” Straightening up, the billionaire smiled. “I just thought it might be useful.”

Steve nodded, putting the stylus down on the desktop. It was a little strange. He hadn't asked for it, but . . “Thank you. How did you know that I like to sketch?”

“It's in your file, if anyone cares to read all of it . .” Tony huffed, trying not to think about SHIELD's frightening attempts at making the super-soldier more comfortable. “It relieves stress, doesn't it? Pepper said that you might like having something 'normal' to do to relax.”

Steve smiled. “She was right. Thank you.”

With a smirk, Tony started for the door. “I'll let you two get acquainted. They say that artists like having some time alone to get used to their equipment. Besides. I've got work to do.”

“Tha--”

“Don't mention it!”

As soon as the door closed, Steven Grant Rogers, the man out of time, sat down on his bed, not quite sure what to do with himself.

 


	2. Pilot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things are drawn and a "radio show" is found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There may (or may not) end up being a chapter for every WTNV episode.  
> Maybe.
> 
> (Goddess help me.)

A few days had passed.

Steve's floor had finally been adjusted to be more “homey”.  
Couches and chairs had been moved to create a more welcoming living room, despite the giant common area a floor or two below. Once-empty shelves had been filled with books and CDs and DVDs of things he had been told to catch up on. Tony had seen it fit to install a large color printer and fill an empty closet with picture frames and nails in case Steve decided to put up some art.

Sadly, there hadn't been a lot of time to enjoy it. Steve and the rest of the Avengers had been dragged though press junket after press junket in a SHIELD attempt to get them some more positive publicity after totaling part of the city. It wasn't much of a surprise the rest of the team had split not long after the last press day. Camera time and clueless interviewers were not terribly good for a pair of spies, an alien prince, and the man who had to deal with the Hulk on a daily basis.

Flopping down on his bed, Steve breathed in the scent of his bedding, trying to gather his head. Day after day of the same questions had rattled his head.  
 _What are you going to do now that you're in the 21st century? How did you feel taking out the Chitauri? Are the rumors true? Are you not Captain Rogers, but Captain Roger's son? What about Peggy Carter? Who is the hottest member of your team? What do you think of today's technology? Captain, do you know what an iPhone--_

No.  
He scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to push the noise out of his head. He had to do something. A run would clear his head, but . . .

Steve sat up and looked at the desk that sat at the end of his bedroom.  
Someone had left a hardcover notebook on the worktop. Alongside it was a package of pencils. _Ticonderoga?_ Steve noticed with a smile. _Some things never change._

In moments, he was in his desk chair, thumbing through the notebook. It was completely empty. The paper was unlined and smelled so new it brought a smile to his lips. As his computer whirred to life, he started to draw, grinning as an idea took hold and began to let itself be etched onto the page in front of him.

Half an hour later, he had a perfect “thank you” sketch for Stark.  
Tony was mid-takeoff, holding the very same sketchbook and package of pencils as he left a store (“An art supply store?” JARVIS had responded, pulling up a photo on Steve's monitor. “Perhaps this one. Utrecht Art Supplies on West 23rd Street.”)

Feeling just that much more relaxed, Steve signed it before flipping to the next page, trying to think of what else he could do. Perhaps something of the team? They could use more shots of the team on the common floor. Maybe some portraits. That would be a nice touch. And he could use the time to listen to something he had missed while under the ice.

Pushing his chair back slightly, Steve looked up to the nondescript whiteness of his bedroom ceiling. “JARVIS?” he called softly.

“Yes, Captain Rogers?” The corners of the room gave a cool, relaxing, blue glow as if to indicate the AI was listening.

“Is there something I could listen to? Like music?”

The glow seemed to increase as JARVIS took a moment to think. “Of course, sir. Although, Doctor Banner recently gave a recommendation to pass on to you. He said it was amusing and relaxing, as well as a good way to discover different kinds of contemporary music.”

Steve smiled. He trusted Bruce's judgement, and if he had recommended it to him, he would give it a listen. He wanted to relax, anyway. “Alright. What is it called?”

“It's a podcast called _Welcome To Night Vale_ , sir. Shall I put it on?”

“Yes, please.” Scooting back to his desk, he nodded to himself, deciding that this was a perfectly good opportunity to learn what exactly a podcast was.

He picked up his pencil just as it started to play. Letting the sound of the narrator's voice wash over him, he started to sketch again, wondering how to capture Natasha's deadly beauty on paper.

***

Confused and interested, Steve looked up as the credits started to play. A list had formed at the side of his page as he had sketched.

It looked a little something like this  
 _What was wrong with the dog park?  
Angels? __\- Angels and the city council?_ _  
World government and ~~secret police~~ bird mural helicopters?  
Gatorade?  
Disappearing jets  
_ _SHIELD –_ _vague_ _yet menacing government agency?  
“_ _echo_ _friendly post consumer material”_  
 _NRA bumper stickers??_  
 _Houses that don't exist_  
 _Indian trackers?_  
 _Lights above the arbies?_  
 _Musical weather? - These and more than these_  
 _Underground cities_

Hearing the phrase “commonplace books,” he added that to the list as well, along with “disparition.info” and “H. P. Lovecraft,” a name that rang a distant bell.

What had he just listened to? What on Earth was it about? And more importantly, where was this “Night Vale” and what was going on there?

Wait a moment. He had the internet, didn't he? He could learn to use it and learn more about this “podcast” at the same time.  
Two birds, one stone.

“JARVIS?” he called as a smile began to form. “Could you help me with something?”

“Certainly, sir.” came his reply. “What do you require?”

 


	3. Glow Cloud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is sadness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking that a once a week update schedule would be the most workable for me.  
> I'm in the middle of preparing for a move right now, so I'm sorry if I don't publish on time . .

**“ _The desert seems vast, even endless. And yet, scientists tell us that somewhere, even now, there is snow. Welcome to Night Vale.”_**

With JARVIS's help (and anti-spoiler censorship), Steve had done a bit of research on his list.  
Commonplace books produced this “podcast”, Disparition did the music, Arby's was a fast food chain, and you could buy the NRA bumper stickers online. And there were various third party places to download _These And More Than These_.

Steve had no idea what to do with that information.

On the bright side, he knew that this podcast/radio show had a plot of some sort, dealt heavily with surrealism, and had been likened to various contemporary authors “building a city in The Sims and leaving it alone for too long.”  
Whatever that meant.

As the next episode began to play, he flipped to a new page to start a new sketch, hoping to maybe get Clint's amazing prowess with a bow on paper.

*

With a confused chuckle, Steve scribbled one more thing at the end of his new list as the weather continued to play.

_~~Radon canyon?~~ Effects of radiation poisoning_  
 _Deadly glowing?_  
 _Apache Tracker_  
 _Normality Outcasts in own society – Professor X?_  
 _Neutron bombs??_

  
For a moment, he thought about the comment about pets before rooting around his desk for an actual notebook to write down his lists.

*

**_“But that's the essence of life, isn't it?”_ **

Captain Steve Rogers looked up, the presenter's voice reaching though the creative fog that buzzed over his mind every time he was absorbed in his work. The gentle, hypnotic sound of his voice had somehow managed to cut through to him, as if he was being addressed directly.

_**“Sometimes, you go through things that seem huge at the time, like a mysterious glowing cloud devouring your entire community. While they're happening, they feel like the only thing that matters and you can hardly imagine there is a world out there that might have anything else going on. And then the glow cloud moves on. And you move on. And the event is behind you. And you may find, as time passes, that you remember it less and less. Or, absolutely not at all, in my case.”** _

_Is that what happened to the world when he was under the ice?_  
 _What exactly happened to the Commandos after VE Day?_  
 _And . . What happened to Peggy?_

**_“And you are left with nothing but a powerful wonder at the fleeting nature of even the most important things in life. And the faint, but pretty smell of vanilla . .”_ **

_They moved on. They all must have moved on._  
 _Seventy years . . ._

Putting down his pencil, Steve simply just let himself listen, trying to accept the hollow sadness and loss he was feeling.

_**“Dear listeners, here is a list of things; Emotions you don't understand upon viewing a sunset . . . A void that thinks. A face, half seen, just before falling asleep. Trembling hands reaching for desperately needed items . . . Silence when there should be noise. Noise when there should be silence. Nothing when you want something. Something when you thought there was nothing . . . Rain coming down in sheets. Night. Rest. Sleep. End. Goodnight listeners. Goodnight.”** _

 


	4. Station Management

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a short discussion. 
> 
> Sometimes, fan art is scary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter is short.   
> I am losing my mind. 
> 
> On the bright side, I may be able to churn out a few chapters in a week or so, and have them prepared to post on time.

Tony took another sip of his coffee, sensing his mind begin to wander towards working again. With a shake of his head, he tried to latch on to the thing Cap had said last. “What was that, Capsicle?”

Steve looked a little miffed at the nickname, but took the opportunity to fork another pancake onto the mechanic's plate. “I said they've got a bunch of episodes out already. JARVIS has been playing them for me while I'm sketching. I got though three of them last night--”

“Episodes or sketches?”

“Episodes.” The barest hint of a smile graced his face as the billionaire mechanically ate another pancake. At least the man _was_ eating. “But I did get two sketches done. And I started a third. Have you heard of a thing called 'fan art?' I--”

Steve silenced himself as he rushed to hand his choking, sputtering friend a few napkins. “Are you alright?”

“F-Fan art?!” Tony coughed into the table, trying to not infect the rest of his pancakes with the mouthful that had been in his lungs. “W-What did you find!?”

“Nothing horrible!” Steve replied quickly. “I just found a website where people post their art, and I had to ask JARVIS about some of it, but apparently people these days draw things that they like . .” Steve tapered off, a little concerned at Stark's look of abject terror. “What?”

The engineer paused for a moment before giving a vague wave of a hand and trying to hide his reddening face behind said hand. “Nothing! Go on!”

“Well,” the super soldier started carefully, “I remember you telling me about _Star Trek,_ so I looked it up. A lot of the work is pretty interesting . . .”

Tony blinked at him for a moment before taking another bite of pancake, trying to stall in case the man out of time started to yell about “damned homosexuals” and “corrupting today's youth.”

“So, I started trying to draw Cecil, from the podcast. I mean, I'm guessing the voice actor looks totally different from what I think, but there's a lot you can tell about a person from their voice.”

“And so you just started to draw this Cecil guy?”

Steve nodded, eyes on Tony as he moved to drink his own coffee and hide his smirk. “That and I wanted to try to draw his perfect Carlos. His crush is adorable.”

Tony nearly choked.


	5. PTA Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember how I said I could turn out a few chapters "in a week or so"?
> 
> My life is finally starting to settle down again.  
> Sorry.
> 
> Too much information about it at the end of the chapter.

“Now,” Tony tossed Steve the device, letting the super soldier catch it before tossing the accompanying headphones with it. “This is a Stark Pod. It's like the Apple iPod, but I wanted to make something that doesn't break as soon as you look at it.”

Steve caught it, turning it over in his hands before tapping the power button to wake it up. “And it does the same thing?”

“But better. You can download any kind of app, put on all of your music and what have you, get on the internet, video chat, send email, and all that crap.” Stark grinned. “I built that one. It's connected to the Tower and the Tower's satellites. You're a press of a button from JARVIS, SHIELD, and any avenger you want to be in contact with. Not to mention I can track you with it if something goes wrong.”

The Captain unlocked the device and started to mess with it like a teen with a new phone to explore. “So, I can take pictures and make movies with it?"

“Of course! I only make the best!”

"Does that mean it also has an address book?" Steve seemed to have found something. Tony was starting to get concerned.

"Yeah, wh--"

“Smile!”

*

**_"The sun has grown so very very old. How long cold? Fading death. How long? Welcome to Night Vale . . ."_ **

By now, Steve's workspace was covered in doodles. He had taken some time to go on a run though the city that morning to explore what had changed since he had been frozen. Walking around in the city made him feel even more out of place, but the battle against the Chitauri had given him some idea of what all had changed. His favorite cafe was still standing, though it wasn't the same place he had known and loved . . . 

Either way, Steve had gotten some good work done. Every time he saw a street corner or store front he recognized, he took the time to stop and roughly sketch it out the way it had been when he roamed the city last. Tony had challenged him to draw his old haunts the way he remembered them, in order to make an online scavenger hunt for "history nuts and people with nothing better to do."

It was strange to revisit his past.   
The last "year" had been quite a blur for him. It had started with him lying on his draft cards, nearly dying in boot camp, turning into a super soldier, doing propaganda, saving his best friend, losing his best friend, defeating Hydra and the Red Skull, and then promptly crash-landing a plane and freezing for seventy years.

And now he was doodling or pterodactyls and hooded figures perching around his new (old?) favorite cafe.

**_"And listeners, Night Vale is an ancient place, full of history and secrets, as we were reminded today. But it is also a place of the present moment: full of life, and of us. If you can hear my voice, speaking live, then you know we are not history yet. We are happening now. How miraculous is that?"_ **

Captain Steven Grant Rogers had no idea his life would be this strange and fantastic.   
But he was still here, wasn't he?

**_"Goodnight, listeners. Goodnight."_ **

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, since my last chapter was posted, I've moved across the continent, gotten "settled" in a spare bedroom at my mother's house as the downstairs gets finished, enrolled in college, had a few mental breakdowns, and haven't felt functional enough to write.  
> I prefer my creative activities to not involve my anxiety, lest I end up ruining whatever it is I'm working on.
> 
> Writing this fic was supposed to be a creative outlet and a kind of stress release for me, so I avoided it for a while, so as to not burn myself out of writing entirely.
> 
> On the bright side, my classes start on the 25th, everything I own will not arrive until September, but I can afford most of my textbooks.  
> Most of them.
> 
> Sorry to vent here, but I don't have other places to do it.  
> Thank you for reading.


	6. The Shape in Grove Park

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about my lateness.   
> I just started college on Monday, and I've been extremely busy for the past week and a half.  
> Sorry.

Tony had texted Steve about doing portraits of the Howling Commandos for “something important.”  
He didn't really elaborate beyond that, but it gave him something new to do.

Stark had also started asking him questions about the war, which set off a few flags for the vet.

While talking about trauma was good and all, it was still a bit fresh in the Captain's mind. It wasn't that he wanted to avoid it, but he would rather focus more on his own projects and taking smaller steps in hearing the “old” news. He was almost able to accept that everyone he had ever loved was dead.  
Almost.

He scrubbed a hand over his face and leaned back into his seat, trying to distance himself from his work.   
Bucky's death was still fresh in his mind and now he was trying to get his eyebrows just right.

What had happened to his life?

With a sigh, he closed his eyes and stared at the ceiling. The silence was deafening. “JARVIS--”

“Shall I play episode five for you, sir?” JARVIS had turned down his own volume to not startle the captain.

“Yes, please.”

The podcast softly started to play as he sighed again, trying very hard to not fall back into the inconsolable grief that nearly consumed so recently.

“ _ **Close your eyes. Let my words wash over you. You are safe now. Welcome to Night Vale.**_ ”

*

Steve picked at his spaghetti, trying to decide what to say as Tony inhaled his dinner, anxious to get back to his workshop and his projects.

Taking a breath, he wound up his resolve and opened his mouth to speak. “T--”

“This is really good, Cap.” Stark's attention was focused on his tablet, poking at it with the end of his fork instead of his engine-grease stained fingers.

Tony's interruption had surprised him, stealing the wind from his sails. “What?”

“This.” The engineer looked up, gesturing with his fork at the meal in front of him. “It's good. Where did you learn how to make this?”

“Germany. After I got Bucky and the other Commandos out of the first Hydra base we took down.”

“Back at camp?”

“Yeah. We were hungry and a few of the other soldiers already at camp decided to throw something together to celebrate and I wanted to help.” He shrugged, looking away. “We didn't have most of the real ingredients, so I guessed for part of it.”

“It's fucking amazing.” Tony dropped his fork, letting it clatter to his empty plate. “How did you remember that?”

“The serum.” he said softly. “I remember a lot more than most people.”

“Oh.”

The silence that fell was awkward and uncomfortable. Steve didn't quite know how to end it.   
Taking his dishes, he stood and turned towards the kitchen.

“Sorry.” Tony finally looked at his anachronistic companion. “I didn't know.”

“It's alright.”

“They're for an exhibit at the Smithsonian.”

“What?” Steve paused, turning to look back at Tony.

“The portraits. And the questions. It's still in the planning stages, but someone wanted to open an exhibit on America's most loved hero.”

“Why? Why now?”

Tony stood, gathering his own dishes in an uncharacteristic display of domesticity. “Because you're back. And the man who owns most of your old stuff is alright with letting it go.”

His things had survived? “Who's that, then?”

“Me.”

  
  


 


End file.
